


Neither Predator Nor Prey

by HalfshellVenus



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Sex, Episode Tag, M/M, Slash, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfshellVenus/pseuds/HalfshellVenus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(1x15, "Benders" Coda) Walking back to the car was only the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Neither Predator Nor Prey

~*~

They were walking as fast as they could, but it was still a good distance back to the car.

Sam looked over at Dean through the darkness. “Why are we in trouble with the police again?”

“She ran my cop ID.”

“And?”

“Apparently I’m black, bald, and older than Dad. Stupid computers.”

“Guess your fake ID wasn’t fake enough.” Sam jabbed Dean in the shoulder.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yelled, the whole left side of his body on fire.

“What? Let me see.” Sam pulled at the jacket but Dean’s hand caught his wrist.

“Do not even think of touching that, or taking off the jacket.”

“What happened to you back there?”

“Nothing a little first aid won’t fix. Now, can we move it? The Feds are coming.”

They covered the rest of the journey in stony silence, until they came upon the Impala in the middle of town. Dean piled into the driver’s seat and Sam fished around in the back for the medical kit. He opened it, drawing out scissors and disinfectant and gauze.

“Are you nuts?” Dean asked. “Can we not do this right in front of the police station? We’ve gotta get out of here.”

“All right,” Sam said. “But as soon as we hit a good side road, you’d better pull over.”

Dean started the car and drove sedately down the street, holding steady until the highway where he picked up speed to put some miles between them and anyone who might be looking for them.

Before long they were going out past the farms they’d passed on the way into town. A crossroads loomed into view up ahead.

“Pull off here,” Sam said, and they turned off down a dirt road blocked high on either side by walls of thickened trees. Dean eased the car off into the grass next to a thick stand of brush and turned off the engine.

Sam flicked on the overhead light for a better look at what he was doing. “What besides your face and shoulder?” he asked. 

“Nothing. Just some bruises.” Dean watched Sam unwrap a pair of butterfly bandaids and moisten some cotton balls. 

“Want to tell me about the shoulder now?” Sam asked, as he gently daubed the side of Dean’s face, removing blood and dirt and cleaning down to the cut.

Dean winced a little as Sam touched the gash above his eye. “Poker,” he said. “They burned me with it. Just once.”

Sam stopped what he was doing. “Seriously?” he said. 

“Yeah. It’ll be okay. Probably get a good scar from it, though. We can fix it up when we find a place to stay for the night.”

Sam got the last of the blood and grit mopped up, and started applying the bandages to ease the cut closed. 

“My photo’s gone,” Dean said quietly.

“What photo?”

“The one I had of you. The policewoman took it to show around that house, and I never got it back.”

“You carry around a photograph of me?”

Dean wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Sam brushed his face with the hand that was holding it still. On impulse, he leaned in and kissed Dean’s cheek softly. “I’ll get you another one,” he promised, feeling Dean’s blush under his fingertips. The tentative smile on Dean’s lips was one he barely recognized on his stubborn, too-confident brother. 

“Hey," Sam whispered hoarsely. "Did you think you might have lost _me?_ ” 

“There was a pretty good chance,” Dean admitted, and Sam could hear the harsh struggle as Dean tried to swallow.

He ran his thumb over Dean’s cheek as he tried to catch his eyes. “Did you think _you_ were going to make it out of there?”

“I was damned sure going to try.”

Sam caught the edge of desperation in that look, and he had an uneasy feeling then of how close they’d come to losing this time around. They might have—could have—but they didn’t. The jolt of _We made it out alive_ swept through him, and he slipped his hand around Dean’s head and pulled him in for a sudden kiss. There was relief and release in that kiss, the feeling of something danced around for years and never discussed. There was too much danger, too much death, and the flavor of too much denial and desire. It was pushing Sam’s mouth softer and deeper against Dean’s as his brother trembled beneath his touch, and the wistful moan escaping Dean’s throat made Sam hard and unable to keep still. He teased Dean’s sinful lips with his tongue, and as he slid gratefully inside Dean’s arm came up around him. His brother received him and explored him in return, teeth nipping and clashing here and there as they licked and moved and fell into one another. Sam urged Dean over to the center of the car where he straddled him gently, always kissing and never stopping in case the moment fell back into the space of everything unspoken between them. 

As he lowered himself slightly, Sam rubbed over Dean’s rigid lap just to hear his brother hiss into his mouth and feel him press upward with his hips. Hands were moving down suddenly to unbutton his fly, stroking down inside his pants and trying to reach just a little bit further. Dean pulled him out then, carefully, tantalizingly, his fingers rolling across him _just like that_ and slippery with Sam’s own slick moisture. As he lifted back slightly, Sam undid Dean’s pants and maneuvered him out, guiding that hardness into the night air as Dean groaned deep in his throat. When he had them joined together in Dean’s hand, Sam lifted up his brother’s shirt and leaned back into him, kissing and thrusting up against Dean’s belly. The silky-steel sensation of combined hardness and friction was hot and dirty and Sam moved faster against his brother until he was coming all over them both and feeling Dean’s sudden wet warmth flowing between them.

He laved Dean’s mouth with his tongue as Dean wriggled and bucked, becoming gentler and slower as the pace faded.

The kisses became soft and tender, and Dean’s other hand was as high as he could lift it, stroking Sam’s skin under the edge of his brother’s shirt. Sam paused for a moment, catching his breath, but Dean pressed his hand flat against Sam’s back and pulled him closer, kissing him like he was _everything_.

Sam wrapped an arm around the back of Dean’s neck, cradling him there and using his fingers to brush Dean’s hair back from the edge of his face again and again. He smiled at Dean like there had never been that distance between them. Dean's eyes had never been so large or unsure. 

“All this was because I kept a picture of you?” Dean asked, like he couldn’t get his mind around what had just happened.

“No,” Sam said. “All this was because it _mattered_. Because I mattered. And you would have died before you left me behind.”

“You’d have done the same for me,” Dean said, because it was true. It was how they’d been raised.

“Exactly,” Sam said. “And now you know why.”

It was less than duty and more than devotion. It was everything ever painted on the stars.

 

_\--------- fin ----------_


End file.
